


In Memory Of...

by MonPetitTresor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Gabriel Lives, Grief, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Character Death, Sam loves Gabriel, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: "Over the years, Sam had become quite intimate with the concept of loss and he'd developed a few different coping mechanisms to help him deal with it. He learned to honor the memory of those he'd lost and he made sure to never forget them. Remembering them gave him the strength to keep going on. To keep fighting."Only, for the first time, someone that he lost - someone other than his brother - comes back, and Sam's forced to confront just how much that being actually meant to him.





	In Memory Of...

Walking away from the Elysian Fields hotel was one of the hardest things that Sam had ever done. He had to walk away from there _knowing_ what would happen to the one he left behind. He knew it, Dean knew it – even Gabriel knew it. In that brief moment that their eyes had locked, Sam had seen the knowledge of Gabriel’s death in the youngest archangel’s eyes. Yet still, he’d stayed there. He’d stayed and fought off Lucifer so that they could get away. It wasn’t just for Kali, though Sam knew that there had to be some affection there considering the way Gabriel had spoken of her. It was for them, too. Gabriel had sacrificed himself so that they could get away. After so long of being on the bench and hiding out, he’d finally chosen a side in the biggest of ways.

Sam had stayed silent in the car ride out of there. The grief he felt was all consuming; the strongest he'd felt since his loss of Jess. It gripped him inside and left him silent and almost numb to anything except the aching of his heart.

He and Gabriel hadn't ever done more than flirt. They'd flirted almost from the get-go, back at that college when they first met, and even Mystery Spot hadn't been able to quell that urge completely. There was just something about the trickster-slash-archangel that drew Sam in over and over again.

He'd never told Dean about the random text messages that Gabriel had sent him. They'd started after Dean's death, when Sam had been entirely alone. Gabriel – Loki, back then – had sent him message after message, trying to be there without actually being there for Sam. They'd stopped for a while after Lucifer had gotten free and then picked up again after they'd cornered the Trickster and found out who he really was. There was never anything much to them. Hints on the monster of the week, flirtatious comments, things like that. Sam hadn't told Dean because he hadn't wanted to listen to his brother gripe. And because he hadn't wanted Dean to see just how much he was softening towards Gabriel. How much he began to look forward to those little messages, even just the ones that told him ' _Good night, gorgeous'_ before he went to bed.

Now it didn't matter. There weren't going to be anymore messages. No more little jokes or pictures or random compliments or even insults.

The being that he'd once hated, who he'd once hunted, and who had somehow managed to come to mean so much to him, was gone.

Sam bowed his head and tried to focus on simply breathing. When Kali's hand settled briefly on his shoulder before she vanished, Sam said nothing. What was there to say?

* * *

Over the years, Sam had become quite intimate with the concept of loss and he'd developed a few different coping mechanisms to help him deal with it. He learned to honor the memory of those he'd lost and he made sure to never forget them. Remembering them gave him the strength to keep going on. To keep fighting.

He was seventeen when he got his first tattoo. It was something private, something he'd done without telling his father or his brother. Sam knew that Dean would probably understand. It'd just, it felt too personal. So he'd grabbed his fake ID and gone to a tattoo parlor alone. For weeks he'd thought about what he wanted to get. It'd taken a lot of drawing attempts before he finally found something that suited him. The tattoo artist who did it for him had helped him refine the image until it was just perfect. On the outside of his left leg, close to his ankle, he had the letters MoM done in sharp, almost tribal script, the 'o' small in the center to look kind of like a head and the M's on either side sort of stretched and long until they resembled wings. Dean had always told him that their mom said they had angels watching over them. Sam liked to think that maybe that was her job now, up there.

The second tattoo Sam got came after he lost Jess. This time, he didn't have to go alone. Dean was there with him when he went and he supported Sam every single step of the way. By then he'd already seen the other tattoo Sam had; a leg injury that had needed stitches had revealed that to him. Dean hadn't commented on it. But when Sam went to go get the tattoo for Jess, he hadn't bothered to hide it, and Dean had simply come along without any hesitation. For her, he'd picked a sun high up on his right arm, because he felt it suited her pefectly. She'd been a light for him in the midst of all the darkness that he'd brought with him to Stanford.

Sam gained a few more over the years. The rifle on his left arm with the initials JW after his father died. After Mystery Spot, Sam got a band right underneath that rifle, a twisting mass of vines and thorns around his arm, with one thorn for each time that the Trickster had killed Dean, and a single bud on there for the final death caused by Lilith. After Ellen and Jo, two more flowers had been added to that band.

Still, it took him a while after Gabriel's death to figure out just what he wanted to symbolize the archangel.

When it finally came to him, it took him even longer to plan it. He finally had to break down and get help. There was only one being that he knew of that might be able to help him and he wasn't quite sure how to go about getting what he wanted. Would Castiel approve of this? Or would he consider it something blasphemous? The abomination, wanting something to memorialize an archangel, one whose death was _his_ fault.

It finally happened on a night where Dean had passed out drunk in their motel room. With him unconscious on the bed where Sam and Castiel had dropped him, there was no chance of Dean interrupting the conversation that Sam wanted to have, or for him to mock his little brother for it.

Sam had to quickly work up his courage before Castiel flew away, though. “Hey, Cas?”

The angel stopped, obviously having been preparing to leave, and turned his focus to Sam. While they weren't exactly what Sam would call 'on the best of terms', they'd built a shaky sort of friendship. One that was mostly centered around their mutual love for the intoxicated idiot snoring nearby. The falling angel and the boy with the demon blood. Quite an unlikely pair. “Yes?”

For a moment or so Sam floundered. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase what he wanted or whether it would be something that Castiel might not approve of. There was every chance that he might think what Sam wanted to do was blasphemous. But to Sam it was important enough to take the risk. “I uh, I wanted to ask you something. But it's, well, it's kind of... I'm not sure.”

“What is it?”

The way that Castiel was looking at him made Sam wanted to shift around. He always felt like Castiel saw so much more than just his body when he looked at him. Could angels see souls? Could he look at Sam and see all the mistakes, the wrong choices that he'd made? Sam was too afraid to ask him. But he could get the courage to ask him this. “I was wondering about, well, angel wings.” Before Castiel could say anything, his surprise already evident on his face in a way it wouldn't have been months ago, Sam hurried to explain. “I'm not trying to get like, too personal here or anything. I was just curious. You don't actually have to answer or anything like that.”

Castiel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes just the slightest bit. His voice, however, was calm when he replied. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Do all angel wings look the same?”

“No.” Castiel answered almost immediately. “All angels have different wings. Different colors, even different amounts. Archangels, for example, have six while the rest of us only have two.”

Well that answered one question. Sam bit his bottom lip and tried to figure out how to phrase the next part of it. In the end, he decided that blunt was the best way to go here. Castiel wasn't exactly the type to pick up on subtlety. “What were Gabriel's wings like?”

There was a moment of quiet as Sam's question sank in. He saw the flash of something over the seraph's face that he thought might be pain. It reminded Sam abruptly that Gabriel wasn't just another angel to Castiel. That, really, none of them were nameless, faceless angels to him, dickbags that needed to be stopped. This was his _family_. These were his brothers and sisters. Their loss to him was real. He probably knew the name of each family member that he'd had to slay for them. Thinking of it made Sam feel a little bit sick. How had they forgotten that fact?

It took a little bit for Castiel to speak. When he did, his voice was low and full of a sort of awe and respect that Sam hadn't heard there before. “Gabriel had the most extraordinary wings. He was our Father's Messenger and as such he had wings that were meant for speed. They were also meant for glory. Once, to see him was to know beauty. His wings were large, meant to fly fast, and were full of every shade of gold known to man as well as shades that you humans have no name for. They could be weapons, as all of ours are, and he used them as such when needed. But I remember them as a bright light. God's glory, poured into His creation.” His eyes cleared and once more were laser sharp on Sam. “Why do you ask?”

Sam rubbed a hand that was just a little too shaky over his mouth. He dropped it down quickly, hoping to hide that tremor, and he cut his gaze away to the side. “No reason.”

Quiet fell over the room. Then suddenly Sam was surprised by a hand coming down on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard Castiel move! When he looked up, he found the angel beside him, staring down at him with so much compassion in his gaze it stole Sam's voice away. “There is no shame in honoring the departed.” Castiel said softly. A corner of his mouth curved up. “Gabriel would be flattered by your remembrance.”

* * *

Only the outline of the wings was done by the time Sam took his swan dive into the pit.

* * *

It took time and plenty of sessions at various tattoo parlors for Sam to finally get his tattoo for Gabriel done just the way he wanted. He had to work to get the coloring right. It helped when Castiel went with him, offering out of nowhere one evening when Sam was heading out and Dean was already at the bar. He said it simply, like it was no big deal what Sam was doing, and Sam was so grateful he’d only been able to nod. The two went together and Sam was more than grateful for it later. Castiel’s instructions to the artist helped them get just the right color blend for what Sam needed.

Neither one of them ever mentioned it to Dean. For once, Castiel seemed to truly understand Sam's need to keep this quiet.

* * *

While the loss never went away, having the physical reminder of the archangel he had come to care for – to love, he admitted to himself – helped him to bear it. Sam learned to function around it. To keep on living, keep on fighting. He learned to live with the place inside of him that always felt so empty.

Until the day that Gabriel walked back into their lives.

* * *

True to form, Gabriel returned to them in a rather big way. Sam didn't think that he knew how to do anything on a small scale.

He responded to Dean’s idiotic prayer that was cast out on open angel airwaves requesting help when Sam was in the hospital after the Trials. Later on he would tell them “I woke up back in the hotel where I died in just enough time to hear the idiot over here casting out a prayer to any angel that would listen. What else was I supposed to do except come save your asses – _again_.”

As the only angel on earth who hadn’t been a part of the fall, he still had his wings and most of his mojo, but it was weak. Recovering, he told them. “You try healing up after having your brother stab you and Daddy bring you back! It’s not easy!”

Adjusting to having him around was startlingly easy. He folded into their little group like he'd always been there. It was sort of strange and yet, wonderful at the same time. He and Castiel spent plenty of time together talking in Enochian and doing angel things that Dean and Sam knew they had no hope in understanding. They didn't begrudge them the time, though. Neither one had all that great of experiences with their other siblings. To see them bond, to see the happiness that it gave Castiel... Sam was willing to bet Dean would've put up with anything just to watch how happy it made Castiel to have his big brother there.

Dean and Gabriel took a little bit to mesh together. They were a little too alike to not end up clashing once in a while. For the most part, though, they could get along, and their bickering took on a friendlier edge. They'd watch Dr. Sexy together, argue over food at dinner time, growl at one another as they built plans together at the war table. Their friendship was an odd one. Sam had been so sure that Dean would freak out at having Gabriel come back, let alone having him pretty much move into the bunker. When Sam mentioned it to his brother once, Dean had shrugged. “Dude died for us, Sammy.” To him, that was that.

It was Sam who seemed to be the one having issues with the trickster's presence. There was a huge part of him that celebrated Gabriel's return. Those empty places inside of him that had been aching ever since Gabriel died were now open and full of warmth and light and a sense of joy that he had a hard time suppressing. There were other parts of him, though, parts that had been burned and hurt one too many times, that just didn't want to trust in this. Didn’t want to believe that something this good could've happened to them. Something bad was going to happen - it always did. And he didn't know if he could go through the pain of it all over again.

So he tried to avoid Gabriel as best as possible. Not that it was easy, what with him living with them. But Sam gave it his best effort.

He wasn't rude. It just wasn't in him to be rude to someone that he actually cared about. Well, anyone except Dean. Their default setting with one another was always rude and snarky. It was just how they worked. But with Gabriel? Sam didn't talk to him much, even if Gabriel seemed to try and make a point to talk to him. He didn't go anywhere alone with him if he could avoid it. He didn't ask him the millions of questions that he always wanted to ask. When they all settled down in the evening for movie nights, Sam politely declined and retreated to his room with a book. He didn't want to get any more attached than he already was.

* * *

It was a hunt that finally brought it all to a head and knocked down the walls that Sam had fought so hard to put up.

The poltergeist that they'd been fighting had been a particularly nasty one. As seemed normal, it'd taken a liking to trying to choke Sam, just like every other thing out there did. But it'd also thrown both brothers into the walls and even chucked Dean out a window. They'd ended up coming back home bruised, a little cut up, and more than ready to be home.

The instant they were through the doors, Castiel was there at Dean's side, watching him with worry. “You're hurt.” His sharp blue eyes ran over Dean before settling on his face. “Why didn't you call me?”

“I was fine enough to drive.” Dean insisted. Even after all these years, neither one of them were big on angel healing unless they were really hurt or dying. They were just too used to taking care of things the human way.

Sam shouldered past his brother, trying to ignore his own pain and keep a straight face. “Don't listen to him, Cas. The poltergeist chucked him out a window. He's probably got bits of glass stuck in his back.”

The sound of Sam's voice had more than a few faces wincing. Including the archangel, who came strolling over from the table he'd been at. His eyes were on Sam and the young hunter tried to ignore the way it made his stomach clench or his body warm. “You don't look like you're doing too much better, Sambo.”

“I'm fine.” Sam insisted before anyone could say anything. He shifted his bag again and deliberately ducked down towards the right, avoiding Gabriel and the hand that had been lifted his way. “Just a few bruises, that's all. I'm gonna go shower off the gunk, though. Feel like I brought back every bit of dust in that house.”

Shamelessly, he beat a hasty retreat, not noticing the looks that followed him.

After dropping off his bag in his room he made his way down towards the showers.

Sitting down on the bench right by the shower stall, Sam bent down, wincing, to untie his shoes. He'd barely gotten one done when he heard a low snort. HIs eyes snapped up but he already knew who he'd find. Sure enough, Gabriel was leaning against the far wall, watching him with a shuttered look on his face and that annoying smirk curving his lips. “Anyone ever tell you you're a stubborn jackass?” Gabriel asked casually.

Sam tried not to be amused by those words coming from this creature. He felt his lips quirk up, though. “Pot, kettle.”

He was rewarded with a flash of a grin. Though he avoided Gabriel, he couldn’t deny that he did enjoy their minimal interactions, and he loved nothing more than to watch him smile.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've been called worse.” Pushing off from the wall, Gabriel strolled forward. “But you take the cake, kiddo. You _do_ realize that you're pointlessly hurting yourself in here, right? It'd take a half a second for me to heal you.”

“I'm fine.” The protest was automatic. Sam grimaced as his ribs and back decided to take that moment to argue, rather sharply, but he continued untying his shoe until he finally had both of them off.

When he looked up again, he was surprised to find that Gabriel had frozen halfway to him, and his expression was a shuttered look that Sam hadn't seen there since, well, since before the archangel had died. It was a mask that hid what he was feeling on the inside and made him look more like one of those cold, nameless angels they'd run into over the years. Sam furrowed his brows. “Gabriel?”

“The idea of my grace touching you bothers you that much? Or is it just me in general?”

The question surprised him. Sam felt his mouth actually drop open in shock. “What? No!”

“Really?” Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him, his expression clearly disbelieving.

Was that what Gabriel thought? Did he think that Sam, what, hated him so much he couldn't stand the thought of him being close, of his grace even touching him? Sam felt a little sick. He placed his hands on his knees, forcing his body to sit up straight. This wasn't what he'd meant to do. No matter his own problems, he hadn't meant to make Gabriel think that he actively hated him or anything like that. “Gabriel... it's not you, okay. It's not.”

The laugh that Gabriel let out was low and mocking, a harsh sound meant to hide the bitterness underneath and failing entirely. “Yeah, sure, kiddo. It's not you, it's me. Nice. Classy.”

“It's the truth.” Sam insisted. His voice firmed. He didn't question why he so desperately needed Gabriel to understand this. The weeks of hiding from him, of avoiding talking to him, they just sort of fell away in that moment. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to think of how to say what he hadn't been able to say to anyone else so far. “It's not you. Or, well, not _just_ you. I don't really let anyone touch me with grace, Gabe. Not even Castiel. Not since...”

Understanding was flashing in Gabriel's eyes. “Not since you got back.”

Sam gave a small nod. He had to clear his throat to be able to find his voice again. “It's, difficult. Unless I absolutely need it, I try to avoid it. It... It brings back too many memories, y'know? I guess you'd call it a 'trigger'. If I can avoid it, it's better all around.”

“Is that why you avoid me?” Gabriel asked him. “Because I’m… I’m like him?”

That question had Sam going silent once more. He hadn't thought that Gabriel would ever call him on that, or at least not so bluntly. He should've known, though. It wasn't like it wasn't obvious. He had to have noticed the way that Sam avoided him. But the hunter had never, ever thought that Gabriel would take it like _this._ He thought that Sam was avoiding him because he was like Lucifer? The thought of comparing the two of them was laughable. They were nothing alike! The way that Lucifer had been, the way he made Sam feel, was nothing at all like Gabriel. They were light years apart from one another.

Sam couldn't stop the low groan that slid from him. “Dammit.” One of his hands came up, rubbing over his face. This wasn't what he'd intended to do! He'd just been trying to save himself a little pain and instead had managed to hurt someone else. Someone that he cared about. _Way to go, Sammy_.

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to find that Gabriel had taken a few steps back from him. That shuttered expression was back again and Sam hated seeing it there. Really, truly, hated it. “It's fine.” Gabriel said, speaking up before Sam could. “Don't worry about it, kiddo. I get it. Archangels haven't exactly been the nicest to you. I can understand that you'd wanna avoid us. I can keep my distance.”

“No!” The word ripped out of Sam without him even meaning to say it. However, the instant that it did, his already abused throat protested quite vehemently and Sam found himself coughing hard while at the same time trying to gasp for air. His body bent double and his ribs and back were screaming even as he brought a hand up to his throat and tried to gasp for air between bouts of coughing that felt more like razor blades tearing at the inside of his throat.

He heard the sound of movement and Gabriel's low “Woah!” just seconds before a hand settled firmly between his shoulder blades and another one caught his forehead, keeping him from bending over any further. “It's okay, kiddo, you're okay.” Gabriel kept his palm flat against Sam's forehead and used that hold to pull his head up just a little. He heard Sam's wheezed whine and shushed him. “I know it hurts, Samshine, but you can't bend down like that, you know that. It's only gonna make it harder to get air. You gotta keep upright a bit and you've got to relax. Don't fight it.”

It took a few minutes and an almost constant stream of gentle, coaxing words from Gabriel before Sam finally got his cough under control. Once it stopped, the hand on his forehead moved and he found a bottle of water being held in front of him.

Sam took it, shooting a grateful look up at the archangel beside him, and took a few careful swallows. Only when he felt like he could actually manage to speak without causing more damage did he finally say “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” Gabriel said, smiling. Then that smile shifted into a grin. “Really though, don’t. You sound like you’ve been gargling sandpaper.”

The hand on Sam's back slid down, a gentle stroke of absent comfort, only to freeze when it got about halfway down. Sam saw something cross over Gabriel's face and didn't have long to wonder what it was about. “You idiot.” Gabriel spat out, drawing his hand back out for them both to see. Red stained along his fingers. “You're bleeding!”

In a flash Sam found himself being pushed and prodded at while Gabriel turned him towards the side. Hands grabbed at his shirt and Sam flushed a little at the idea of stripping his shirt off in front of Gabriel.

It must’ve been noticeable because Gabriel snorted, loudly. “Calm yourself, princess. I'm just gonna pull it up as far as I...”

Gabriel's words trailed off and Sam felt it as the archangel went completely and utterly still behind him. So still, he wasn't even breathing. For a moment Sam worried that maybe the injury was worse than he'd realized. That the damage was pretty bad and maybe he was actually going to have to accept angel healing after all. The, just as he heard a softly breathed out “ _Sam_ ”, it all clicked and Sam realized just what it was that had frozen Gabriel in place. _The tattoo_. Gabriel was staring down at the tattoo.

Sam tried to instinctively jerk away, but the hold that Gabriel had on his shirt prevented it. He felt gentle fingers touch his back again, only this time their touch was hesitant. Was that a slight shake he could feel in them? Sam wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to ask, either. Didn’t even really know what to say. What was he supposed to do right now? What should he say? Sam had never thought to explain this to Gabriel. When he’d gotten the tattoo, he’d never thought that he’d have the opportunity to explain it, and by the time Gabriel had come back into their lives the tattoo was so much a part of Sam he didn’t really think anything of it. Just like he didn’t actively think of any of his other tattoos.

The sound of Sam’s still hoarse breathing was the only thing that made any sound in the bathroom. The two were frozen in their moment, neither one sure what to say or what to do.

It was Gabriel who finally broke the silence. “When did you get this?”

“The, ah…” Sam paused and cleared his throat. The hoarseness there wasn’t just from his sore throat anymore. It made his words low and hard to understand, yet he bet that Gabriel could still hear him. “The outline was done when I went into the Cage. I got the rest of it once I got my soul back.” Now that he’d started speaking it was somehow easier for Sam to keep going. He’d come this far – he might as well finish it. Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath to try and steady himself before he continued on. “Cas helped me get the colors just right. I wanted them to, to be realistic.”

“They’re as close as humans could get.”

Apparently Sam wasn’t the only one that was choked up. Gabriel’s voice was just as hoarse as Sam’s. Unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, especially since Gabriel still hadn’t moved away from behind him and his fingers were still lightly trailing over the ink in Sam’s skin, the hunter didn’t quite know what to think. That unsettled feeling prompted him to speak even more. “I’m sorry if it bothers you or anything like that. Cas said you’d be honored, but I know it probably seems weird or something like that and I…”

The firm press of Gabriel’s hand against his skin cut off Sam’s words. The feel of the archangel’s face against his hair made sure he couldn’t get those words back. “Cassie was right. I didn’t… I didn’t think you…”

To hear Gabriel – _Gabriel! –_ at a loss for words was amazing. Sam turned his head a little until he was tilted up just slightly towards Gabriel. “Gabe?”

There was a moment where everything seemed frozen around them. Sam held his breath, trying to catch a glimpse of the archangel frozen behind him. He was sure that some sort of reaction was coming; he just had no idea what it was going to be. He definitely wasn’t prepared for it when Gabriel bowed down even lower until his forehead was pressed against Sam’s shoulder. There was a soft whisper of breath against his skin as Gabriel murmured words that Sam couldn’t hear. Then, before he could even begin to try and speak, Gabriel was moving, and Sam froze as he felt soft lips press against his spine. “You are an amazing human being, Sam Winchester. When are you going to stop surprising me?”

It didn’t exactly seem like a question that was looking for an answer. Sam held perfectly still, not quite sure what to say or what to do here. What was going on? He’d never – he hadn’t meant for Gabriel to see this, yet now he had, and he was still here. He was here, pressing one more kiss against Sam’s spine, and he wasn’t angry or bothered or anything like that. Sam opened his mouth as if to ask a question – thought what, he wasn’t sure – only to be cut off by a soft “Hush” and a gentle hand running in his hair. When he was quiet, Gabriel went back to work behind him, focusing once more on the spot on Sam’s back that was bleeding.

Sam kind of felt like he was floating as he sat there and let Gabriel clean up his back. When the archangel was done, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. Stay? Move? Wait?

He was surprised yet again by the archangel. Gabriel moved around to the front of him and then slowly sank down to his knees right between Sam’s feet. Sam knew his eyes were wide as he stared at the being below him. Gabriel looked up at him from his knees and he smiled, soft and gentle in a way that Sam had never seen before, and he lifted one hand to cup Sam’s cheek. “My brother was right, Sam. I’m honored by what you did.” Gabriel slid his hand over Sam’s cheek, fingers tracing along his cheekbone, his thumb going over Sam’s lips. His eyes never once left Sam’s. “I should’ve trusted myself a long time ago, but I’ve never exactly been known for being brave. I think I fell in love with you the instant I saw that amazing soul of yours, and I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen a little harder each day since then. It was why I started texting you. Why I couldn’t ever seem to stop. You’ve captivated me right from the get-go, gorgeous.”

“Gabriel.” The word felt like it was ripped from Sam. His tender throat, already so sore and not aided at all by the lump of emotion that was now building there, made the word come out a soft, hoarse whisper.

Gabriel pressed his thumb against Sam’s lips. “Hush. We’ve got plenty of time to talk about this later, once you’ve had some sleep and you’re feeling better. For now, I just… you needed to hear me say it. I love you, Sam Winchester, and if you’ll have me, I don’t plan on going anywhere ever again.”

It was pretty much everything that Sam had ever wanted to hear. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, was all wrapped up in the single most amazing being he’d ever met, kneeling before him on the bathroom floor. Despite his nerves and the fears that still sat deep down inside of him, how on earth was Sam expected to do anything except bend down and press his lips against Gabriel’s in a kiss that said all the things his abused throat wouldn’t let him say.

When they broke apart, the two of them were smiling, and Sam felt like a weight that had been sitting on him for too long was finally gone. Gabriel stroked his fingers over Sam’s cheek and then drew his hand down. He rose up to his feet and caught Sam’s hands with his, tugging on him lightly. Never once did he stop smiling. “Come on, kiddo. I think it’s time for all good little hunters to get some sleep.”

Sam couldn’t wipe his own grin off his face as he let Gabriel tug him upright.

That night, for the first time in so long Sam couldn’t even remember, he fell asleep safe, wrapped up in the arms of someone he knew would protect him, and he slept through the night without a single nightmare.


End file.
